An Unholy Alliance
by irisis
Summary: A small addition to episode 5x13, Allegiance. Nell and Callen prepare for Planet MD's fundraiser. Nallen flirting and sass. Rated T because Nell references those naughty photos she's been receiving. Now updated to include a short addition to War Cries!
1. Allegiance

Nell took the stairs down to the first floor two at a time. The Planet MD fundraiser was due to begin over in Hollywood in less than three hours, allowing her perhaps thirty minutes to eat a quick meal and finish the current chapter of the trashy romance novel tucked away in her shoulder bag.

The cloakroom door swung open as she approached and her outstretched arm swiftly seized and used to gently pivot her three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. Without fully knowing how it had happened, she found herself in-step with Callen and walking back in the direction of the bullpen.

"Whoa there cowboy." She stopped and pulled her arm loose. "Whatever you need, ask Eric. I'm under orders from Hetty to take a break."

"We don't have time," he replied without pausing or turning to see whether she would hurry to catch up with him.

Of course, she did.

"If you're hungry we can eat on the way there," he added , almost as an afterthought. "There's a leftover chili dog from lunch in the Jag."

"You're a real gentleman," she muttered under her breath, lengthening her stride to keep up.

He hesitated by his desk and began searching through the contents of the top draw in silence.

"So seeing as I have the _privilege_ of eating a cold chili dog in your Jaguar this evening, I take it there's been a change of plan?"

He glanced up momentarily, obviously distracted. "I'm taking you to the fundraiser."

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, the only outward sign of her excitement at the thought of gaining more field experience so soon after her last assignment. "Okay."

Callen looked up again, his glance sharp this time. "'Okay'? I thought you'd be pleased. Or did partnering with Deeks put you off the outside world for the time being?"

"I am pleased," she insisted, uncurling her fingers. "Merely overwhelmed at the prospect of being with a _real_ man this time around."

He stopped suddenly and straightened, car keys in hand, subjecting her to a frank appraisal before his features melted into a smirk, eyes wide.

"In that case, what are we waiting for?" he asked softly. "Let's get you out of those clothes."

"Age before beauty," she shot back, leading the way to Wardrobe. She quickly found his primary black tie suit from the men's rack and passed it over. She shifted slightly to allow him to pass and into the small changing cubicle.

Nell wistfully eyed the long rack of expensive, glamorous looking cocktail and ball gown dresses in Kensi's size which adorned the opposite side of the narrow space and felt a pang of sadness at the thought of the ongoing absence of her friend.

"So what's our back-story?" She asked to distract herself.

"I'm Dr Lopatkin, genius physician, and you young lady are not fit to lick my boots," Callen answered in a heavy Russian accent from behind the curtain. She felt her mouth involuntarily crease into a wide smile but didn't give him the satisfaction of laughing.

Her eyes sailed skyward as he suddenly emerged in shirt, boxer shorts and socks. He exchanged the suit pants for another pair; evidently he had lost weight. The curtain drew closed again behind him.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to have a less... _flamboyant_ cover?" She mused. "Blend in more?"

He gave a derisive sounding snort in reply, still with a Russian accent. "Shows what you know, rookie."

"What's your speciality?"

"You know, I haven't decided yet. Plenty of time to think of something suitable."

The curtain parted for the final time and he emerged, sans tie. She quickly selected a striped one from the rack and briefly ran it between her fingers.

"May I?"

The accent disappeared. "Please do."

She stepped into his personal space, reached upwards with deft hands and upturned his collar. Her knuckles brushed against the stubble on his jaw with a barely audible rasp.

"And me? Do I have the honour of being Mrs-Dr-Lopatkin?"

He didn't answer until, questioningly, her gaze met his and she paused in her ministrations with the tie.

"No. People wouldn't buy it."

She slowly finished the adjustments and was pleased to note that her hands remained steady. "I don't have the appropriate trophy wife look, huh?"

"Don't," he said with a repressed sigh, smoothing down the tie as she stepped away. "You know you're beautiful."

The hitch in her breathing betrayed the lie.

"Just the wrong type," he added, turning to face the full length mirror and examining himself side on. "Dr Lopatkin likes bimbos. Whereas you may as well have good education and sophistication stamped on your forehead."

She folded her arms. "I've been speed dating four times in the last two months and all I've come away with are dick pics."

"Huh." He began buttoning his cuffs. "You know, if you're lonely you could always put Eric out of his misery."

She winced visibly.

"Sorry, below the belt?"

"Or so he wishes."

"You, are a cruel temptress, Miss Jones. When are you going to man up tell the guy he's been friend-zoned?"

She laughed nervously and tightened her arms. "I am _not_ having this conversation-"

"Have it your way."

"-with _you_, of all people."

He let his arms fall to his sides. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Hey, on a completely unrelated topic, are you still dodging Miss Summerskill's calls?"

His posture stiffened dramatically and his eyes met hers in the glass.

"'His steely blues rooted her to the spot. She abandoned all thought of reason and lost herself once again in their oceanic depths-'"

"For the love of God, Nell, I asked you to take that blog offline, not subscribe to it!"

"So what's my back-story?" she asked as, finally happy with the image looking back at him in the mirror, he turned to face her.

"Check-in girl," he replied, deadpan.

"'Check-in girl'?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Wait, that makes no sense. What good can I do from the check-in desk? Plus, my last minute replacement act will set the other security staff on edge."

"It makes perfect sense. You'll have access to the guest list, and therefore the name of the man we're looking for," he replied earnestly. "It's worth risking some suspicion."

"But..." she watched with a growing sense of frustration and helplessness as he began searching through a small cluster of dark pants suits. "What if you need back-up?"

"Then I'll know exactly where to find you: at the check-in desk." he answered glibly. "What size are you?"

"Ha! Nice try." She brushed past him and selected a conservative looking suit, holding it out into the light to examine it all the better.

Callen had found a low cut dress top – in the right size, damn him – to match and held it out to her. "Need any help getting into that?"

She snatched the item from him and retreated into the cubicle without responding.

"I'll meet you outside in fifteen," he called, backing away. "I'll see if Deeks has a candy bar in his desk – you _do_ look hungry."

He shot a final glance at the cubicle before leaving, and noticed a three inch gap in the curtain. He didn't know what surprised him more – that he took a quick, appreciative look, or the fact she had done it deliberately.


	2. War Cries

The bruised windpipe made it an effort to breathe. It especially hurt to speak. So she stuck to thinking instead.

Something about him was bothering her. Not his touch – that was light and quick, almost clinical. Warm fingers rested briefly on pulse points on throat and wrist. A calloused hand steadied her head.

It was his breathing. Quick and unsettled and accompanied by beads of sweat high on his forehead. His own pulse was just visible above the neckline of his shirt and it was erratic.

It was also his voice. Some minutes had passed since the rescue but it was still hoarse and feather soft; full of concern. He kept asking: was she okay? Commanding her to stay still. Ordering Deeks to make himself useful and make her a hot drink. It sounded damaged somehow.

But more than anything it was the fact that when she had asked whether she had nailed the bastard he had actually had to look. His head had turned sharply and he had made a quick assessment of the situation because he didn't know. His entire focus had been on her rather than the potential threat.

Nell knew this was in part because Callen trusted Sam's capabilities implicitly. But coupled with the the breathing and the voice there was something else at play here.

That thought led to unexplored, but not unwelcome, avenues.

"Help me up?"

He frowned, paused in his ministrations. "That wound on your temple's going to need some attention."

"Callen. Please. I want to get up."

The frown deepened. She could almost hear him mentally running through the simple logistics involved in helping her upright. He would prefer an extra pair of hands but Sam had his full with Brown. He'd sent Deeks away. And even if Granger hadn't been busy barking orders into his phone in the next room, he wouldn't consider asking anything from the man.

"C'mon," he murmured at last. The hand under her head moved lower, wrapped around a shoulder. His other hand gripped hers tightly. With a slight grunt of effort he helped her slowly and steadily into a standing position. Once there his hands remained on her.

"Steady?"

She didn't answer – a sudden spasm of pain in her throat prevented her. Instead she backed slowly into the table that had been righted since her violent encounter with Brown and sat on the surface; indicated that he should go ahead and check the wound.

His hands left her as she completed the movement but the physical contact was soon back.

His thigh pressed against hers as he stood in front of her. Both his hands reached up to her hair and for the second time that afternoon gently brushed it away from her face. Both of his thumbs lingered on her jawline for just a moment and then were gone.

"How does it look?" It came out as a croak. She was uncomfortable under his close scrutiny.

"Nell. I'm sorry."

She raised her eyebrows quizzically.

His eyes were too bright, his jaw tense. "I should never have sent you over here alone. I almost got you killed. Again!"

She wondered whether the reason for his odd behaviour was guilt rather than something more personal. And then she decided to test the theory. Her inhibitions were loosened thanks to the high volume of adrenaline sliding through her veins.

"Callen-"

He interrupted her. "I don't know why I keep-"

The finger she rested across his lips silenced him at once. He looked at once alarmed, and it excited her to see it.

"Callen. For the last time, I'm fine."

Her finger remained in place and he made no move to pull away. She counted five heartbeats before moving her finger lightly across his mouth and up to his cheek until she was lightly cupping that half of his face with her hand, her thumb sliding down to the gap between ear and jaw.

He let out a deep breath as she took one; she was unaware that she had been holding it. He was no longer looking alarmed. More like confused.

There was a light tap on the door. She pulled away her hand quickly and tucked it under her arm as if scalded. Callen took two neat steps away from her as Deeks entered with a small round tray rested on his forearm.

"Hot chocolate - with marshmellows only, sorry but no whipped cream Nelly Bean - for the patient, four coffees for the gentlemen. Hey Callen, Sam says he could do with a hand loading Brown into the ambulance."

Callen cleared his throat noisily. "Right." He walked purposefully towards the door, paused half way there. "Look after her for me?"

Deeks straightened. "Sure thing," he replied, sounding slightly puzzled. He placed the tray on the tabletop beside Nell and watched the other man leave.

Nell heard the door close softly behind her. At the same moment the adrenaline began to melt away, reabsorbed and working its magic elsewhere within her body.

Deeks suddenly began shrugging out of his jacket.

"Here, take this – you're shivering."

She wrapped the grey material tightly around her and gratefully took the proffered steaming hot mug, trying to leach its warmth into her, but the shivering continued.


End file.
